


Speaking of Jealousy

by AlwaysWrite



Category: Fillmore!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, moving stuff from fanfic .net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysWrite/pseuds/AlwaysWrite
Summary: Extra scene during Of Slain Kings on Checkered Fields. Fillmore and Checkmatey have a very interesting conversation about Ingrid when she leaves them alone for a bit.
Relationships: Cornelius Fillmore & Ingrid Third, Cornelius Fillmore/Ingrid Third
Kudos: 3





	1. Check

**Author's Note:**

> Doing my part for Historical Accuracy and a More Complete Archive. i.e...I am bringing over this fic from ff.net. Originally intended to be a one-shot, but got long enough for two chapters. Written during my youth, from a fandom I have abandoned but have never gotten over. #RIPFillmore #themortifyingordeal #ofreadingyourchildhoodfanfic

In all his time as a Safety Patroller, Fillmore had never seen time move more slowly.

On Wednesday, Principal Folsom had come to the Safety Patrol on a matter of 'utmost importance'. Checkmatey, the school's resident rapping chess master had been receiving notes of a threatening nature, warning him to drop out of the inter-school competition on Friday. Principal Folsom had then said, "I know I shouldn't have to worry about anything because I know the Safety Patrol will be giving 110 to keep Checkmatey safe for the match." It had not been a request.

So here they were. Confined to an ancient storage closet that had been equipped with a small card table, three folding chairs, and the runner up for "most annoying person in the world." (The winner being the lady on the "I can't believe it's not butter commercial. Don't ask). Fillmore and Ingrid had been assigned as Checkmatey's bodyguards, and after two tortuous days, Fillmore felt like banging his hair-less head against a wall. Repeatedly. With Checkmatey's bad boy 'I think I'm gangsta' attitude and his inability to BE SILENT for more than ten seconds, Fillmore was going to lose it. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand to be stuck in this storage closet with this infuriating kid.

Judging by Ingrid's tense posture, twitching eyebrow, and the glares she kept shooting out from under her dark hair at their charge, he was fairly certain she wasn't doing any better; she despised people who thought they were better than everyone else. Plus, Ingrid was generally a more reserved person and undoubtedly was not taking kindly to Checkmatey's ill-advised flirtation attempts. Fillmore had thought about intervening, but decided against it. Ingrid knew how to take care of herself. He smirked, his teeth showing white against his dark skin, feeling a little sorry for Checkmatey for when Ingrid _really_ decided to put a stop to his actions.

"Yo, officers, I'm this close to dyin' of boredom ova here." For the fifth time in the last hour, a voice that had grown more and more irritating as time went on interrupted Fillmore's thoughts. Ingrid's unusually bright green eyes snapped up at the sound of the hated voice. Fillmore had no doubt her thoughts right then were not pleasant. "Isn't there _somewhere_ else we can go? This is screwing wi' my image, ya know?"

Fillmore closed his dark brown eyes and counted to ten, trying to come up with a civil response.

"No." Well, he had tried.

"Ah, that's totally whack yo!" Checkmatey replied before returning to his grumbling.

Ingrid snapped shut the book she had been reading, a pink tinge staining her pale skin with frustration. "Checkmatey, I'm going to have to ask you to STOP COMPLAINING," she warned in a don't-cross-me voice. "As much fun as it is for us to be locked in a storeroom with you for hours and hours, I for one would prefer _quiet_."

Checkmatey backed off for a moment, but then a cocky grin slid onto his face as he sidled next to Ingrid. "Well, of course sweet thang. There's nothin' I couldn't do fo' you." He attempted to put an arm around her, but she quickly slapped his arm and stood up. Fillmore gave a humorless smile at Checkmatey's exclamation, "Ow!" These incidents were becoming increasingly annoying. He didn't like his partner having to deal with this. Before he could say anything, she spoke.

"Fillmore?"

"Yeah?" he asked.

"It's almost noon, and one of us has to go and pick up lunch while the other baby-sits _him_ ," she said exasperatedly, shooting a glare at the aforementioned _him_. "Would you mind if _I_ went? I need some air."

Fillmore attempted to smother an amused grin. Ingrid had a look on her face that meant death to the next person who managed to irritate her. Especially if that person happened to be an annoying blond chess player. He couldn't really help his grin; Ingrid was physically a small and unimposing person and seeing her with a look that could kill was nothing short of funny. Seeing his grin, Ingrid turned her glare towards him. That made it less funny. He gulped.

"Sure Ingrid."

"Thanks." Throwing a final glare at Checkmatey, Ingrid stalked out of the storeroom, leaving both her partner and the rapping chess player staring after her in her wake.

After a moment, Checkmatey broke the silence. "Dang! That girl is supa fine! I really dig them feisty chicks."

Fillmore gave a noncommittal grunt and sat down again.

"Hey, yo, I just got my inspiration for my new rap. Yo, yo, I knowa girl who's supa fine, some day I'm gonna make her mine-" he stopped as Fillmore slammed his hand down on the folding table that had been set up.

" _Stop_ that," Fillmore said with deadly calm. It was an order, not a request.

"Man, why ya always gotta be hatin' an' such?" Checkmatey complained. "You could be doin' somethin' useful, like telling me how to make the ice princess warm up to me."

Fillmore bristled at Checkmatey calling Ingrid the 'ice princess'. He wanted to set the jerk straight; anyone who really knew Ingrid knew she wasn't cold, but instead he settled for a firm, "No."

"Aww man, why not?"

He gritted his teeth. "Because I really don't think she'd appreciate it."

"But why-…ohhh, I get it." Checkmatey sat back with a smirk on his face.

Fillmore shot him a look. "Get what?"

"I get why you don't wanna give me any tips to get that sweet honey to fall for me."

"And why is that?" Fillmore asked mockingly while turning to walk back to his chair.

"Because you're jealous."

Fillmore froze. As he turned around, he asked again, "What?"

Checkmatey smirked. " _You're jealous_."

"Of what?" Fillmore asked in annoyed bafflement.

"Of me."

"Of you? Why?"

Checkmatey snorted. "You're jealous of the fact that your partner is more into me than she's into you."

Fillmore blinked. "You've got to be joking."

"Nah, I think I got it right. I understand why you'd be jealous though. Ingrid's a real piece of work. Sorry to steal her from you," he said gloatingly, patting Fillmore on the shoulder.

" _Steal_ her from me?" Fillmore asked with a humorless laugh. "Ingrid and I don't feel that way about each other, we're just partners."

"Yeah right. I've seen you two walkin' down the hallways lookin' pretty chummy."

"Forgive me. Ingrid and I are partners _and_ best friends. But we are NOT together." Fillmore didn't know why, but this conversation was really beginning to bother him.

Checkmatey chuckled. "Whatever officer. Whatever you two are or aren't, it don't change the fact that she's more into me."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Fillmore commented dryly.

"I would."

"You're delusional."

"You're jealous."

"Not likely."

"Well, if you're not, then you won't mind watchin' that sweet honey fall fo' Checkmatey's irresistible charm. It's pretty obvious she's already started."

Fillmore could have laughed. The idea that smart, sensible Ingrid Third would fall for this whacked out poser was hilarious. Except for some reason, Fillmore couldn't find anything remotely funny about what Checkmatey was saying. "You are fooling yourself man," Fillmore stated with an angry undertone.

"Yeah, what makes you think that _Officer_? I mean Ingrid won't be the first _or_ last girl to fall fo' Checkmatey yo."

"Because, you moron!" Fillmore exploded as he stood up. "Ingrid would never waste her time on a guy like you! She's too smart for that and she'd be too good for you anyway!" Fillmore took a breath before continuing with dangerous calm, "So once again, she would never be interested in a guy like you. Like I said, _I_ _wouldn't bet on it_."

"Oh yeah?" Checkmatey countered. He really didn't know when to quit. "She ain't interested in a guy like me, huh? So what, officer? She interested in a guy like you?"

Out of everything Fillmore had expected him to say that was certainly not it. The statement knocked Fillmore back for a second. He struggled with his words. "N-No," he stammered. "Like I told you before, Ingrid and I are just partners."

" _And best friends_ ," Checkmatey mimicked him.

"Yes," Fillmore said, glaring daggers at the boy. "The point is, I know Ingrid a lot better than you do. She's nice and funny and smart and…" he stopped after receiving a knowing smirk from Checkmatey. "So trust me when I say she'd never be interested in you," he finished.

Thinking he had set him straight, Fillmore turned to go sit down, but was immediately stopped by Checkmatey's voice. "Yo, officer?"

He turned exasperatedly. "Yes?"

He still wore a smug grin on his face. "I was thinkin'—"

"I'll alert the presses," Fillmore retorted.

Checkmatey's grin didn't fall as he continued, "If you and Ingrid aren't a couple, and she's not into 'guys like me', then…"

"Yes?"

Again with the grin. "What kinda guy _is_ she interested in?"

Fillmore gave him a deadpan stare. After a moment, he replied, "Please stop talking."

Checkmatey snorted. "Whatever you say officer," he responded with satisfaction. He had caused enough headaches for the moment.

Fillmore was finally able to sit back down. Unfortunately, his feet didn't need nearly so much rest as his head. For a kid who didn't seem capable of thought, Checkmatey had given him a lot to mull over.

He didn't know what had made him so angry about Checkmatey saying Ingrid liked him. He _knew_ that Ingrid would never be into Checkmatey. He could have ignored the blond boy's words and stood secure in his knowledge. But he didn't. For some reason, he couldn't stand the chess master thinking he even had a shot with Ingrid.

' _I mean, it's not like I don't_ realize _Ingrid's a girl,'_ Fillmore thought to himself. _'I guess it's pretty obvious that eventually she'll have a boyfriend. There'll probably be lots of guys flirting with her at least.'_ Those last thoughts gave him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He shoved the feelings away. _'Well, and why not?'_ he thought. _'I'm surprised some guys haven't started already. She only looks like she's distant to everyone, but you only have to be around her for a little while to realize what a great person she is. Intelligent and funny and kind and brave and…'_ Fillmore shook his head to clear it. Those kinds of thoughts were not going to get him anywhere.

He shot a glance over to Checkmatey who seemed to be innocently listening to his portable CD player. With his eyes closed, the chess player's lips moved, forming words to a song that was blasting through his headphones. Fillmore's eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he watched the boy and considered his last question. Despite his testimony that he and Ingrid had no romantic interest in each other, Fillmore had to admit that now that the question had been brought up, he was very curious about the answer.

Just as Fillmore hadn't really considered Ingrid having a boyfriend, he hadn't considered who it would be, or what they would be like. Quickly checking on Checkmatey, Fillmore closed his eyes and tried to imagine what sort of guy would fit the persona of Ingrid Third.

With his eyes still closed, he conjured up a series of pictures of the girl in his mind. In the park, in the hallway, the library, cafeteria, anywhere where Ingrid would go with her…boyfriend. Fillmore then began putting different guys next to Ingrid in those pictures. First, a football player. At that thought, he almost had to laugh. _'As if Ingrid would go for a guy like that.'_ His humor quickly disappeared though. Wasn't that the whole point of these thoughts? That he didn't know what kind of guy Ingrid _would_ go for? Who was he to say whom she'd never consider?

' _Well, I am her best friend,'_ he thought. _'I guess I'd know her tastes pretty well.'_ Still, he forced himself to look at the picture again, trying to observe it objectively.

It wasn't funny this time. But still, _'I just can't picture Ingrid giggling and following some guy around all day like jock's girlfriends usually do.'_

And so the pictures went on. The preppy guys were too shallow, the true Goths too dark. Fillmore went through every clique he could think of, in between checking on Checkmatey. Ingrid would never put up with the melodramatics of the theatre crowd. Maybe one of the "delinquents"? Nah, they tended to be bitter about Ingrid throwing them in detention. The class clowns were too off-the-wall and the nerds would never bring out the fun side of Ingrid Third, a side people outside of the force didn't know existed. This was like some twisted version of Goldilocks trying all the chairs and bowls of porridge. But this time, Goldie couldn't seem to find one that was "just right."

Fillmore sighed in frustration. No matter how many guys he thought of, he was fairly certain Ingrid wouldn't be interested in any of them. She was special, unique, and all the guys seemed to be very wrong with her. Of course, these thoughts were completely objective. They didn't have anything at all to do with the unexpected, unfamiliar pang he got every time he imagined Ingrid enjoying her time with another guy.

Suddenly, Fillmore latched on to another statement Checkmatey had made: 'so what, officer? She's interested in a guy like you?' He hadn't thought about picturing guys in the force. He closed his eyes again. Vallejo was immediately rejected. That would just be _weird_. O'Farrell maybe? That was a laugh. He knew Ingrid saw him almost as a younger brother. An extremely klutzy and weird younger brother, but good-hearted nevertheless. Fillmore almost decided to give up on this train of thought when all of a sudden; an unwelcome thought came to him. _'Anza,'_ he thought. _'What if Ingrid was interested in Anza?'_ He tried to imagine it. Anza was a nice guy and he and Ingrid seemed to be good friends. But how good?

An awful realization hit him. It was possible. Ingrid and Anza were compatible enough to work as a couple. Picturing them together, he realized that they actually _looked_ like a couple. That thought gave Fillmore a painful and queasy feeling. Not to mention a sudden strong desire to push Joseph Anza into a dumpster. But still, no matter how good those two seemed for each other, looking at his mental picture of them together, something just felt… _off_.

' _This is pathetic,'_ Fillmore told himself disgustedly. _'I'm her best friend and Ican't match up her personality with one guy in this entire school without it feeling wrong.'_ What's more, he couldn't figure out why it was bothering him so much. _'There's got to be some guy Ingrid would like who wouldn't get me jeal—not that I've got any reason to be—.'_ Fillmore massaged his temples. Try as he might to deny it, he didn't think there was any guy Ingrid would choose whom he would be okay with. _'Unless…unless maybe it was…no!'_ Fillmore straightened up. _'I'm not even going down_ that _road.'_

Unfortunately, his thoughts were not behaving well that day. All he could think about was how good of a partner and friend he had found in Ingrid Third. How much his world had brightened with her around, after the pain of having his best friend move away. In fact, Fillmore was beginning to suspect that Ingrid was becoming a closer and better friend than Wayne had been. He knew that he would always treasure Wayne as a friend, but they had separated and now had new lives and experiences that the other had no part of. They would always be friends, but they were different people and had grown in different ways. Wayne was past; Ingrid was here now.

However, no matter how rebellious his thoughts ran, he managed to keep them away from a single locked door in his mind. Somehow, Fillmore knew that behind that door, he'd only find disaster. And that was because he had a theory that from behind the door was where a certain feeling was coming from; the funny feeling he had begun to have in his stomach sometimes when he looked at Ingrid Third.

Fillmore grunted in frustration and opened his eyes… only to find Checkmatey smirking at him. "Troubled thoughts officer? Lady troubles?"

"No."

"Ya know officer, someday ya gonna hafta quit denyin' what the whole school is guessin' and talkin' about. Your 'partner's' gonna have to wise up too."

Fillmore glared at him hard and was just about to ask him what he meant about his partner, and then possibly duct tape his mouth, but Ingrid managed to choose just that moment to walk back in.

"Sorry I took so long Fillmore, I stopped by HQ and…whoa," she said under her breath, catching the glaring contest.

Fillmore broke contact first and turned towards Ingrid. "It's fine. What were you saying?"

"After we eat, Principal Folsom wants us to take Checkmatey to one of our houses for safekeeping. I suggested mine since my dad is home and maybe that'll give us more security."

"Sure," Fillmore said.

Ingrid brought out the fare from the Egg Rollery and handed it to Checkmatey. Then she walked back over to Fillmore. As they dug through the plastic take-out bags Ingrid put her hand on his shoulder and asked concernedly, "Fillmore, what was going on in here before I came in?"

Fillmore glanced at Checkmatey out of the corner of his eye. The boy seemed to be back in his self-centered world.

"Nothing," Fillmore stated decisively.


	2. Mate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the last chapter of the first fanfic I ever wrote. Man, 2004...what a time.

It had been a _very_ long day.

Fillmore and Ingrid were back at headquarters, packing up their stuff to go home. By some miracle, they had managed to get Checkmatey to play in the tournament. Although Fillmore had been sympathetic to the scared boy on the roof, he couldn't help feeling dismayed knowing that everything he and Ingrid had gone through today was done by the "victim". Too many more cases like that and Fillmore would be developing a chronic migraine.

"So, care to tell me about _your_ time today with our friend?" Fillmore asked jokingly as they walked away from the school.

Ingrid shot him The Look. "Fillmore, after today, I would prefer that we never bring up this day again. I try to repress bad memories."

He laughed. "Whatever you say Ingrid. What made it so bad?"

"Oh, nothing but Checkmatey being his annoying self. I almost felt relieved when I realized he had escaped through my window. I've never heard anyone complain so much in two hours."

Fillmore nodded; he had gotten his share of that behavior too.

"Not to mention his misguided attempts at flirting."

He stiffened slightly. Trying to seem nonchalant, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Just more of what you saw earlier today. He called me pretty, tried to put his arm around me, etc."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," Fillmore said. He hadn't wanted to leave Ingrid alone with Checkmatey, but he had to follow that lead on the chess tournament saboteur. Plus, he didn't even want to _think_ about what Checkmatey would have said if he had protested. Not wanting to see that knowing smirk, Fillmore left without looking at him. "Before we came to your house, I tried to get him to lay off. Guess it didn't work."

Ingrid blinked. A ghost of a smile crossed her face before it was replaced by a look of sincere puzzlement. "Well, thanks, but…why would you do that? It was just Checkmatey 'frontin', as he would put it."

Fillmore didn't say anything while they walked along the quiet street lined with homes that defined the stereotypes of suburbia. He wasn't surprised that she had asked. He would have done the same, had their roles been reversed. But they weren't, and he was still standing there with a perplexed Ingrid staring at him. "Fillmore?" she prompted.

He wasn't trying to ignore her question. He just didn't know how to explain. Some emotion, an emotion beyond the fluttery feeling, had pressed him to do it. One thing he was certain of: the first guy to tell Ingrid she was pretty should not have been some vain, chess-playing, rapper-wannabe. Whether he knew that as a friend or something…else, it didn't matter. The facts remained; Ingrid was worth more than that.

Finally, he settled for a simple, albeit incomplete, answer. "I don't know. You just seemed kind of on edge when he would hit on you. So I tried to stop him. That's what friends are for."

Ingrid stared at him with an unreadable emotion before turning away. Donning her usual expression, she said, "Well, why ever you did it, thanks. That kid was extremely annoying."

He could have let it drop. He could have let the subject go at that. But on impulse, he continued with a small laugh, "Yeah, he actually tried to get me to help him win you over."

Ingrid stopped dead in her tracks as her head snapped up. A dangerous look came onto her face. "Fillmore…please tell me you didn't. I'd hate to have to tell Vallejo that I need a new partner because mine has mysteriously _vanished._ "

Fillmore laughed for real that time. "Chill Ingrid. I didn't."

She sighed in relief. "Good. So, what did he say to that?"

"He asked why I wouldn't, of course."

"And you said…?"

"I told him you'd never be interested in someone like him."

She nodded her head slightly in agreement. "Yeah, I don't know what it is, but for some reason, rapping chess players just don't do anything for me."

Fillmore chuckled before continuing, "Exactly. Not like he believed me though."

Ingrid looked mildly surprised. "Really? Why?"

Fillmore swallowed. This is where it started to get trickier. "Well," he began, "it's because after I told him you weren't into guys like him, he asked what kind of guys you _were_ interested in. And I didn't know, so I couldn't answer him." There. A non-condemning answer. An answer that was also baited so Ingrid would have to continue the conversation in this direction.

However, apparently the fish weren't biting that day, because Ingrid just nodded a little and fell silent as she and Fillmore continued on their way through the early spring evening.

Fillmore managed about half a block of silence before he broke it. For some reason, he just had to know.

"So, what kind of guys _are_ you interested in?"

Ingrid started. Fillmore couldn't blame her; even _he_ was surprised with himself for asking point blank. "What? W-Why do you ask?" she questioned, feeling flustered hearing Fillmore ask her that. In general, she kept her actions just that: HER actions. Sure, she and Fillmore talked since they were best friends, and she was fairly close to Tehama and the other Safety Patrollers, but this…answering this was almost like having someone prying into her personal affairs. But that was silly; this was _Fillmore_ she was talking to.

"Well, I just figured that, um…it was kind of weird that I didn't know the answer and…I mean, shouldn't friends know that stuff about each other?" Fillmore stammered. He certainly wasn't going to tell her that he had spent all the time she had been gone trying to match her up with someone in his head.

Ingrid had raised an eyebrow at his answer and some of the uneasiness left her stomach. Yeah, _girl_ friends talked about stuff like that. Not them. Hoping to end this increasingly strange conversation, she said, "Fillmore, I really don't know what kind of guy I'd be interested in."

"Well, why not?" he asked pressingly.

" _Because_ I haven't thought about it that much," she said, mildly irritated at his tone.

He scoffed. "Yeah right. You've _had_ to have thought about it before."

"No," she said through her teeth, "I really haven't thought that much about it at all."

For some reason, her responses kept making Fillmore more exasperated. "What, afraid to tell me that unconventional Ingrid Third has a crush on a quarterback?"

Ingrid stopped walking and yanked Fillmore's shoulder so he was facing her. And then she let him have it. "No, I do not have a crush on a quarterback! But so what if I did?" It was the same voice she had used to tell Checkmatey off for constantly irritating her. That made this the second time in 24 hours Fillmore had seen Ingrid Third lose her temper.

Meanwhile, "There's nothing _wrong_ with quarterbacks anyways. You've never cared about this before! Why now?"

As Ingrid stood there fuming, all Fillmore could do was stare. She truly was unique. This petite, fair-faced girl, scolding a guy two-three inches taller than she was, and glaring at him with ice in her eyes that was so cold it burned. At that moment, Fillmore thanked God for sending Ingrid to X Middle School. No matter where he went, he would never find another girl like Ingrid Third.

She harrumphed angrily and Fillmore broke his stare with a chuckle. She really was amusing when she was angry. Ingrid stood there a moment longer before her face softened and her "battle stance" relaxed. "Sorry," she murmured with a sheepish smile.

"Nah, it's my fault. I shouldn't have pressed you."

They shared a smile then resumed walking.

Until Ingrid asked, "Do you really want to know?"

Fillmore considered it. Then, "For curiosity's sake, yes."

Ingrid sighed. "Okay. But I wasn't lying when I said I didn't know what kind of guy I like. I can't picture myself with a jock, a nerd, or even a Goth. And certainly not with a rapping chess player," she added wryly.

Fillmore smiled and she continued, "But I guess there are some traits I'd want the guy to have."

"Like…?" Fillmore asked.

"Well…he would have to be nice. Obviously. And funny. But he would also need to have a sense of adventure. And a strong sense of right and wrong. Although," she added, "he would also need to be brave and wise enough to know when to cross that line for the 'greater good'. Someone I could talk to. _And_ listen to. So we wouldn't be just boyfriend and girlfriend. We'd be like best…" her voice faded out and for some reason, neither friend could think of anything to say.

Finally, in an attempt to lighten the mood, Ingrid broke the silence. "Not to mention, he would have to have enough patience to deal with and be okay with being seen with a 'weird' girl. Who wasn't 'normal'."

He gave her a look. Now he had something to say. "Ingrid, you are not 'weird' or 'odd' or anything like that. And even if you're not 'normal', you shouldn't have to be. Or _want_ to be. You are beyond normal Ingrid; you are exceptional. And any guy that doesn't see that is a moron," he finished.

She had stopped walking and was staring at him in shock. Becoming aware of how his "speech" must have sounded, Fillmore opened his mouth to explain, apologize _anything_ , but then he heard Ingrid speak: "Fillmore?"

He looked up and saw a small smile on her face and a look he had never seen before in her eyes. "Thanks."

Suddenly, Fillmore was caught in her eyes. He didn't think he'd ever seen them so green. _'Like emeralds,'_ he thought dazedly in the distance. As if on cue, the wind had begun to blow softly, pulling strands of Ingrid's hair around her face. For a moment, it seemed as though the rest of the world had vanished. As heartbeats passed and then quickened, Fillmore felt his breathing slow watching her. Almost imperceptibly, their faces were moving closer and closer. They were barely an inch apart when the pair was abruptly flooded with bright light. They both pulled back and looked up with a squint. There was a moment of silence until:

"Streetlight," Ingrid said neutrally. It was getting dark and the town had begun to turn on all their streetlights.

"We'd better get home," Fillmore said, avoiding her eyes. Ingrid nodded without looking at him and they both started off for Ingrid's house.

When they reached Ingrid's house, they stopped and stood there, trying to catch their breath.

All during that run, they had managed to avoid thinking about the 'non-occurrence' under the streetlight. But now the thoughts and questions were coming back and Fillmore was at a loss for what to do.

"Hey, Fillmore?"

He looked up at Ingrid. Same smile, but THE look was gone from her eyes. Those green orbs simply held the same look of trust and friendship that they always had. "What you said back there really meant a lot to me. I mean it. Thanks." And she wrapped him in a tight hug.

With all the weirdness that had been going on that day, Fillmore was surprised that the hug felt very… _normal_. Wrapping his arms around her, he convinced himself to stop thinking so much. This hug wasn't about all the weird feelings that were putting his thoughts in a spin. This was just where he was supposed to be. Ingrid needed him, and he was there for her. It was that simple.

In the back of his mind, Fillmore knew that this wasn't the end of those strange feelings. His subconscious knew that they would keep coming back to wreak havoc on his peace of mind. But at that moment, everything inside him was hit with the same knowledge: no matter what, he and Ingrid would be friends forever. Neither rain nor sleet (and the rest of the postal service motto) would change that. Whatever these feelings turned out to be, Ingrid would always have his back.

They both pulled away, feeling much more like themselves. "It's no problem Ingrid. It was the truth. Friends are supposed to tell you the truth," he stated with a genuine smile. She returned it and walked up the steps to her door.

"Hey Third!"

She turned. "Yes… _Cornelius_?" she asked sweetly.

He glared at her use of his first name before saying, "We've got to write up all the files for Checkmatey's case tomorrow plus anything else that pops into Vallejo's head. So get some sleep tonight partner; it's gonna be a long day."

She smiled. "You got it partner," and walked into her house.

He waited a moment then started his walk to his house. He would need to get some sleep too. After the file work on Checkmatey, he and Ingrid had Cafeteria control duty, plus that investigation for the kid who kept rigging the gumball machines to spill all their gum with one quarter.

It was going to be a _long_ week.

No matter how many bad guys you took down, someone new would always come up. Fillmore grinned in spite of it all. That wasn't a problem. Whoever they were, they would find them and take them down. Those criminals didn't know what they were getting into.

Cornelius Fillmore and Ingrid Third.  
Partners.  
Case-solving extraordinaires.

And best friends.

Really, was there anything they couldn't do?


End file.
